Stuck
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: He sat on her bed, watching her silently as she packed her things. She was listless and tired and sweaty and beautiful, and he knew he had to let her go. GWHP
1. Promise

Stuck

Harry Potter fell in love with Ginny Weasley during the summer after his seventh year at Hogwarts. It was a hot, hazy summer, with long, sun-baked afternoons and slow kisses and dazed murmurs.

There was a war outside but in the dark corners of 12 Grimmauld Place there was only hushed laughter and heavy breathing. There were long glances across the table and secret smiles and flushed faces that nobody seemed to notice.

But summer faded away and reality came crashing back and the space between them became startlingly clear. Ginny was going back to school and Harry was going off to fight for his life, for _all _of their lives. He sat on her bed, watching her silently as she packed her things. She was listless and tired and sweaty and _beautiful, _and he knew he had to let her go.

She saw him watching and shook her head. "You don't have to say anything."

"I want to."

"Harry -"

"Look, I'm -"

"If you say you might not make it through this war, Harry Potter, I will hex you into a million pieces," Ginny said roughly, throwing books violently into her trunk.

"If you don't want to wait, I don't want to make you," he said quietly.

She stopped throwing the books and stared into her trunk instead. He waited and held his breath, and when she spoke again her voice was shaky.

"It's not that I don't want to."

The bottom dropped out of his heart and he said, "Right. Right, then." He stood up quickly.

She turned around and her eyes were bright. "I just _can't_."

"All right." He was halfway out the door, wishing he could sink through the floor. His chest squeezed tighter and tighter until he wasn't sure he would ever breathe or speak again, he felt like he might _crack_ -

"But I can't _not, _either." Pain streaked her face, tears filled her eyes, and then he was clutching her, kissing her, murmuring softly - _thank you, I'm sorry, I promise..._

"Don't promise," she whispered against his lips. "Don't make promises you can't keep." She kissed him and took a deep, shuddering breath. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Are you sure?"

"It wouldn't be any easier," she said, shaking her head. "I'd rather it be... I'd rather know..."

"I know," Harry said, and he did. "Gin, I... I..."

But the words got stuck in his throat.

A/N: Will update soon, as soon as finals are over. I don't know how many chapters this will have, and it may be a little confusing, but not overly much, so don't worry. Reviews would be highly appreciated and would probably help with my writer's block 


	2. Waited

A/N: Here we go. Chapter two is longer and I don't know how long chapter three will be.

TWO YEARS LATER

"Owl for you," Harry said, gesturing toward the brown tawny standing on the window sill of the flat he and Ron shared. The owl hooted impatiently and Ron took the letter from it's leg and shut the window.

"It's bloody hot in here, haven't you cast any cooling charms?" he muttered, opening the envelope.

"They must've worn off," Harry said, turning the page of his _Daily Prophet._ "Who's it from?"

"Mum," Ron said, reading intently. "She's inviting us to dinner tonight, and - oh. _Oh._" Ron's jaw dropped.

"What?" Harry said distractedly. Ron's head jerked up to him.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "So, dinner's at 6:00."

The war had gone on for almost a year - a dark, painful time that Harry tried not to remember. Nights spent plotting with the Order, days spent wandering that desolate house, letters written that wouldn't be sent unless he didn't make it out alive.

The final battle was a blur for Harry, but he won in the end - Voldemort was killed and the Death Eaters were defeated. Harry spent a month drifting in and out of consciousness in St. Mungo's and finally came to on his nineteenth birthday, surrounded by nearly everyone he loved.

Nearly. Ginny was no where to be found.

"So why such the late invite?" Harry asked Ron as they walked up the road to the Burrow. "Were we the second choice after someone else backed out?"

"Er, dunno," Ron said, missing the joke. He glanced sideways at Harry, who glanced right back.

"Are you all right?"

"'Course," Ron said. "Great. Fantastic." He opened the front gate and led the way up the path to the kitchen door. "Listen, mate..." he trailed off, his hand on the doorknob.

The door swung open, and there stood Mrs. Weasley, beaming up at them. "Hello, boys!" she said, too brightly. She kissed Ron and then Harry, pulling them inside. "Ronnie, why don't you go into the living room and say hello? Harry, dear, let's talk for a moment..."

Nobody really knew where Ginny Weasley had gone.

Mrs. Weasley fretted and wrung her hands, and Mr. Weasley patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly, but that didn't change it. Ginny wasn't there when he woke up.

She had been at Hogwarts during the final battle and came home the next day, but as soon as the news broke that Voldemort was dead, she ran away, leaving only a note for her parents, promising she would be fine and write soon. She left no word for Harry.

That was a year ago, and since then all the Weasleys had received were three letters and a Christmas card. None said when she'd be back; none mentioned Harry.

She hadn't waited.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked.

"Wrong? Oh, nothing's wrong, dear, nothing at all," Mrs. Weasley said. "Just a bit of a surprise today, that's all. I was going to have Ron tell you, but - well, I was afraid you might not come if you knew, and, oh, we all _so_ want you to see each other, especially if she's going to stay, and we do hope she does."

"She?" Harry said, as something buzzed at the back of his brain. "Who's 'she'?"

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said excitedly. "Ginny's come home."

"What's the big deal, I just want to get some - _oh_."

Ginny stopped dead at the threshold of the kitchen, her mouth falling open, the rest of her sentence trailing away.

"Hi," Harry said, his mind perfectly blank.

"Hi," she whispered, paling.

By the time dinner was over, Harry had come to a conclusion.

He had never been more confused in his entire life. He hadn't spoken to Ginny, because he wasn't sure he was actually capable of speech anymore; every time he even looked at her, it was like he couldn't breathe. He leaned numbly against a kitchen counter and watched as she excused herself from a conversation with Bill and her father, grabbed her purse, and walked into the backyard. Without thinking, he followed her.

She walked all the way to the paddock where they had played Quidditch when they were young, reached into her purse, and fished out a cigarette. She lit it with her wand and took a drag.

"I didn't know you smoked," Harry said.

"Dirty habit," Ginny said, and it was clear that she had known he was following her. "Picked it up in France."

"You went to France?"

She took another drag. "Yeah. Everybody smokes there." She stared off into the woods.

"So," Harry said. "Er. We're just not going to talk about this, then?"

She took a deep breath. "I don't know."

"All right then," Harry said, feeling a rush of anger toward Ginny and her apathy. "I'll talk. First of all - take the fucking fag out of your mouth," he spat. "Come off it, Ginny."

Ginny glared at him but tossed the fag on the ground and stubbed it out with her foot.

"Right, then. So. It's been a while. Two years, right? How've you been? I know you didn't ask, but I've been fine. Almost died, but I saved the world, so don't worry about it," Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not that you ever did worry about it, did you?"

"Harry - "

"No, no, it's fine. You had things to do, I get it. France and smoking and all that."

"Listen - "

"No, _you_ listen," Harry hissed. "I spent a month half-dead in a hospital bed, and you never even came to _see_ me."

"I - "

"I mean, hell, Ginny, was it all a game to you? That summer - everything - didn't it mean anything?"

"Of course it did!" Ginny looked stricken now, but Harry could barely see through his anger - a whole year of it, of waiting and wondering and hurting. "You don't understand."

"No, I guess I don't." Harry shook his head bitterly. He wanted to say something else, he needed to - there was more, so much more...

But the words got stuck in his throat.


End file.
